


It's Always Best When The Light Is Off

by trashcangimmick



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: AI Handsome Jack - Freeform, Bigotry, Consent Issues, Daddy Kink, Dubious Consent, Exhibitionism, Humiliation, Jack is a dick, M/M, Poor Vaughn, Queerplatonic Relationships, Rhys is a Dick, Trans Male Character, Voyeurism, We're Deep In Garbage Hell Now My Boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 20:07:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14838344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashcangimmick/pseuds/trashcangimmick
Summary: Rhys and Vaughn find a spare moment to have dirty sex in the caravan while everyone else is asleep. Well. Almost everyone. The AI ghost of Handsome Jack is very much awake and it turns out he likes to watch.





	It's Always Best When The Light Is Off

**Author's Note:**

> Inb4 this is offensive garbage. Jack is a dick about everything else, why would this be different? He is not overtly transphobic? But he’s insensitive and weirdly fetishistic and gross. Also Vaughn has no idea he’s participating in a threesome ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

_ “Well this is an interesting development.” _

 

The blue hologram flickers to life in the corner of Rhys’ vision. He freezes. Suddenly wide awake, alert, and so very aware of the situation.

 

“Rhys?” Vaughn’s voice is low, with a husky edge to it. Barely a whisper. “Are you OK?”

 

The caravan isn’t all that big. Sasha and Fiona are both curled up in a pile of blankets towards the front. Athena is on the roof with the robots, keeping guard. It’s cold in the desert once the sun goes down. 

 

It had started as instinct. Pressing up against another warm, familiar body. Rhys was half asleep. The lazy kisses felt so natural. A welcome resurgence of routine when everything else has gone tits up. 

 

He’s not going to let Jack–or the hologram of Jack, or whatever that fuckwad AI occupying Rhys’ bionics should technically be called–ruin this. He also doesn’t really wanna give the bastard a free show. But he hasn’t told anyone about his little renegade AI problem yet, and it really doesn’t seem like the time to start.

 

“I’m fine. Just thought I heard something.” Rhys presses a few chaste kisses against Vaughn’s soft lips. It quickly devolves into something dirtier. Sloppy and deep, the way Rhys wants to be fucked. 

 

He’s sticky. Aching. He hasn’t gotten off since they touched down on Pandora. There hasn’t been time, or a place that was at least somewhat sheltered from the various people and alien creatures that are trying to murder him. This is the closest thing to alone time he and Vaughn are likely to get in the foreseeable future. 

 

When Rhys sees an opportunity, he takes it.

 

He rolls on top of Vaughn, pinning him on his back. He’s always kind of had a thing for nerd boys. He’s attracted to girls who look like they could choke him out one-handed and guys who he could definitely beat up. Vaughn is short, awkward, and deferential, but weirdly ripped under those ill-fitting clothes. So it’s a mixed bag, but Rhys is into it.

 

_ “Well, shit, cupcake. This is a little kinkier than I had you pegged for. Are you really gonna bang Mr. Universe while these bandit chicks are sleeping like five feet away? That’s kinda… that’s kinda hot, honestly.” _

 

Rhys wants to say,  _ fuck off, asshole. _

 

He settles for unzipping Vaughn’s pants and pulling his dick out. It’s a really nice dick. Not overly long. Pleasantly thick. Uncut. Rhys can sometimes zone out a little, just stroking it, watching the foreskin slip over the shiny pink tip, and then back to expose it. 

 

Right now, he’s too impatient for much foreplay. He kicks off his shoes and squirms out of his pants and boxers as fast as he can without making too much noise. The floorboards of the caravan creak as he positions himself, straddling Vaughn’s slender hips. 

 

Jack has gotten much closer. He’s staring down between Rhys’ legs.

 

When Jack first woke up, he was much too concerned with murder, corporate espionage, and then the existential crisis of his own mortality to pay much attention to his new flesh host. But it did not take him particularly long to figure out how to hack into Rhys’ augmentations and wrest control of them. Apparently, just controlling the arm and eye didn’t clue him in to some other facts of Rhys’ anatomy, however. He seems surprised. At least for a few beats before his mask shifts into a lecherous smile.

 

_ “Well that’s a nice little treat. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll watch a guy take it up the ass any day. But pussy will always be my first love.” _

 

Rhys wants to scream. Because of course it’s not enough that Jack is gonna stick around while this is happening. He also has to be gross about it. 

 

Whatever. This isn’t for Jack. It’s for Rhys and Vaughn. And if this whole mess of a situation kinda feeds into Rhys’ exhibitionist tendencies, that’s his own business. His heart is pounding in his ears and he’s breathing too fast. Because Sasha or Fiona could wake up at literally any minute. Athena could decide to come down off the roof. And Jack is right there. Grinning at him like a cat that found its way into a bird sanctuary. 

 

Yeah. This is all working for him. 

 

Rhys lines Vaughn’s cock up and sinks down onto it in one smooth motion. Rhys is dripping wet. It feels so fucking good. Being stretched and filled. Vaughn lets out a soft groan.

 

Jack phases out for a second, then flickers back into existence, this time right next to them, down on one knee, making direct eye contact. 

 

_ “Jesus, I wish I had a body right now. I bet you feel great. All hot and silky on the inside.” _

 

Rhys starts to rock his hips, slow at first. As per usual, Vaughn just lies there and lets him take what he wants. Rhys gets to dictate the pace, depth and angle. Rhys knows exactly how to ride Vaughn’s cock to a spectacular orgasm. 

 

_ “Do you still have anything up here?” _ Jack pats his chest, eyebrows raised.  _ “Or did you get them sliced off already? I remember when the legal department started pounding down my door about ‘inclusivity’ in the company health plan coverage and sex changes. I think I signed off on whatever they were babbling about just to shut them up…. so, you’re welcome!” _

 

The heat of mingled humiliation and arousal makes for an interesting hormone cocktail. Rhys feels drunk on it. Being objectified. Dehumanized. On display like this. It flips some disturbing switches for him and it flips them really hard. 

 

Maybe it’s defiance. Maybe it’s just an answer to Jack’s question. But Rhys pops the buttons on his shirt and lets it fall open, displaying the faded white scars that run under his pectoral muscles. 

 

Rhys wants to say, _yeah. He’s where your money went, fuckwad._ _Take it in._

 

He settles for bracing his hands on Vaughn's chest and starting to really bounce on his dick. He needs more. Faster. He’s already so damn close. 

 

Vaughn groans. Runs his hands up Rhys’ stomach, down his sides. Eventually he settles on grabbing Rhys’ ass. He always wants to touch everywhere. Get as much physical contact as he can. That’s how he channels all the messy feelings that he’s too smart to say out loud, but they both understand anyway. 

 

It’s not that Rhys doesn’t care about him. He does. Vaughn is kind of all he has anymore. It’s just not exactly the lovey dovey type of caring. It’s not the dating, then married, with kids on the way type of vibe that Vaughn so obviously craves. It’s the deep, weird bond between best bros who sometimes bang that isn’t ever gonna be romantic but is meaningful in a lot of other ways.  

 

_ “You’re a little slut, huh?”  _ Jack actually licks his lips.  _ “I wonder how many times you’ve let someone bend you over a desk just to get a leg up the ladder. Have you fucked that douchebag who couldn’t figure out how to work a gun? I bet you have. Explains why he was so flustered over trying to kill you.” _

 

Rhys can feel his face turning pink. He definitely has not fucked Vasquez. Well. He hasn’t exactly fucked Vasquez. There was one New Year’s party where he let Vasquez slip a hand down his pants and finger him in a dark hallway while nobody was around. It was unsatisfying on so many levels. Rhys didn’t even get off. He faked an orgasm to escape. The fact that Vasquez thinks he made Rhys come is maybe the most cringey part of all. Well. Second most cringey. The fact that Vasquez offered Rhys a position as his assistant/fucktoy after killing Henderson wins out. Of course, Rhys would rather be a janitor, and said as much, which is why he’s even in some dumpy bandit van on pandora with the ghost of handsome Jack living in his hardware. Life comes at you fast. 

 

_ “Yeah.”  _ Jack draws even closer.  _ “You’re an office bicycle if I’ve ever seen one. And you’re definitely getting off on this. Being watched. Showing off that tight little body. Bet it’s not even the first time you’ve fucked in front of an audience.” _

 

Rhys’ mouth falls open. He can’t help the slight whimper. He’s been in threesomes before. Even orgies. But nothing quite like this. He’s reached the point of arousal where it’s hard to be mad about anything. The more Jack heaps on the insults, the hotter it gets him. 

 

He’s always kinda had a thing for shame. Probably a byproduct of an overly religious upbringing. The bad dirty makes him feel so good. He is literally about to come without even touching himself. 

 

“Rhys…” Vaughn gasps. “Are you close? I don’t know if–fuck–I don’t know how much longer–”

 

_ “Awww. I’m disappointed in mini-hulk. That’s an embarrassing lack of stamina. But I guess that’s what you get for fucking a weird little nerd instead of a real man.” _ Jack blinks out of sight again. _ “Want Daddy to help you out there, kitten?”  _

 

Suddenly, there’s a burst of static in the back of Rhys’ brain. Then his bionic arm is no longer responsive. Rhys is startled enough, or maybe just horny enough, not to fight it. His metal fingers skirt up his inner thigh and just barely graze across his dick. Rhys shudders. Bites his lip to keep from moaning. 

 

_ “That’s it, baby. I bet you beg real pretty. Let’s hear it.” _

 

“Please,” Rhys half-whispers. He knows he’s going to regret this. Displaying any hint of vulnerability in front of a lunatic like Jack. But right now he super doesn’t care.

 

Jack adds a little more pressure. Rubs a few teasing circles around Rhys’ cock. 

 

_ “You can do better than that. Don’t let me down now, Rhysie.” _

 

Rhys is burning up. Every nerve in his body is buzzing with the anticipation. Vaughn is staring at him with those adoring puppy eyes. Trying to last for him. Trying to make him feel good. And Rhys is a goddamned monster, with an even worse monster whispering filth in his ear. Fucking an angel with a devil on his shoulder. Rhys was going to hell long before this, but even he can acknowledge this is a new low.

 

“Please, Daddy, I’m so close. I need it.” His voice warbles, quiet and pathetic, and exactly what Jack wants.

 

Jack  _ growls _ . It sends a lurch of dizzying heat through Rhys’ already feverish body. Quid pro quo. Jack isn’t messing around anymore. He rubs two fingers back and forth across Rhys’ swollen cock. Fast and rough, and exactly the way Rhys likes it. Under different circumstances, Rhys would be making a god awful racket. As it is, he has to bite down on his other fist to keep from screaming. Rhys tenses. He can’t fucking breathe. 

 

_ “That’s it, pumpkin. Come for Daddy. I wanna feel it.” _

 

Everything is blur of pulsing pleasure. Rhys squeezes around Vaughn’s cock, and fucking gushes all over his thighs. That’s apparently enough to set Vaughn over the edge. His grip on Rhys’ ass tightens as his hips jerk. 

 

Rhys slumps forward, boneless, exhausted, and high on the afterglow. He shifts enough to let Vaughn slip out of him. He can feel the mess inside him slowly dribbling onto the floor. He’s too tired to care. There’s a brief flash of static, and Rhys regains control of his bionic arm. Jack doesn’t reappear. Why would he? The creep got what he was after. He’s probably off somewhere trying to cyber jerk it.

 

“Did you… call me Daddy?” It’s hard to tell in the dark, but Vaughn might be blushing.

 

“Don’t think about it too hard.” Rhys yawns, patting him on the side of his face. 

 

“OK, then,” Vaughn laughs softly. He wraps his arms around Rhys’ waist in a loose hug. 

 

The guilt hasn’t quite set in yet. It undoubtedly will. That’s the problem with being a bad person, but still having an intact conscience. Rhys will do some fucked up stuff. But then he feels gross about it after the fact. 

 

“Hey, Rhys?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“I know stuff has been kind of crazy–and scary–and we’ve almost died like a bunch of times. But I’m still glad you took me with you.”

 

“Me too, bro.”

 

“Also that was really hot, and it’s fine if you wanna call me Daddy more often.”

 

“Oh my god,” Rhys snorts. “You perv.”

 

“Hey, you’re the one that started it. I’m just saying–you know…”

 

Rhys presses a soft kiss against Vaughn’s lips. It’s pretty much always the best way to stop the awkward rambling. There's plenty of shit he's not dealing with at the moment. He can just add 'I guess we're into Daddy Kink now' on the list of things to be examined and evaluated at a later date–which will more than likely never come. 

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the [Radiohead Song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r3RRrLE5IOQ). Stay tuned for part two wherein Jack possesses one of his doppelgängers and has a three way with these twink boys. Or where Jack possesses a fucking machine. Maybe both! There are endless possibilities in this delightful hell place.


End file.
